


and i am not your protagonist, i am not even my own

by no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, But Way Too Late, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm, THIS IS SO SAD IM SORRY, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Pining, Vignette, Weddings, author is just projecting their relationship with their own best friend onto the founding fathers, because author is sad and gay and in love with their best fried, but im sure yall expected nothing less, long one tho, red if ur seeing this plz dont read it k bye lu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation/pseuds/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation
Summary: The fact that it's platonic hurts so much but he loves it because he knows James loves him, he knows that, and even if it's not in the way he wants, it's the best he's ever gonna get and he can be happy with that, will be happy with that, has to be happy with that.~*~*~a series of events showcasing thomas and james's (extremely one-sided) relationship, from college to adulthood
Relationships: Background, Dolly Madison/James Madison, One Sided - Relationship, Thomas Jefferson/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	and i am not your protagonist, i am not even my own

**Author's Note:**

> major self-harm and general bad thoughts yall. stay safe <3

Thomas never really knows how to act around James. He doesn't. James is smart and brave and handsome and quiet and everything Thomas isn't but wishes so badly he was, so he puts up a front instead of dealing with the vulnerability. It, that front, that i-don't-give-a-fuck act, is probably the reason everyone assumes  _ he's  _ to blame for all their little charades, now that he thinks about it. 

He's not. Contrary, of course, to what their highschool librarian will tell you.

_James_ is the real decision-maker. _James_ calls the shots. _James_ decides what they're doing for lunch _._ _James_ decides whether or not they're going to argue with Hamilton in debate class. Not Thomas.

Sure, Thomas may come up with 97% of the ideas, but  _ James  _ makes the decisions.

It's always been that way, and Thomas thinks it probably always will be. Cause, hell, Thomas learned the hard way, a long time ago, that he's actually not as good at making decisions as he thinks he is. 

James is much better at that.

So when James comes to him in their senior year of high school and he's twisting his hands nervously like he's scared and swallows harshly when Thomas asks  _ what's wrong  _ and finally blurts out  _ I'm going to Jersey for college, _ Thomas just blinks and forces down the pit in his stomach and immediately starts changing plans in his head and goes  _ oh, okay. Where?  _

Princeton wasn't something he'd ever thought about. It wasn't his first choice. 

It is now. Because Princeton, it seems, has James, and that's all Thomas really wants. 

Thomas would follow him anywhere.

They both get accepted. Thomas opens his letter right in front of his best friend while James opens his own at the same time, counting down from three before they read their letters. Thomas sees the word  _ accepted  _ and doesn't feel happy, no, he's  _ scared, _ terrified to look at James's face and see that he  _ didn't get in _ , that Thomas will have to go to college  _ alone _ , but he's got no need to be worried, because James is grinning uncontrollably at him when he finally looks up and his friend cocks an eyebrow and Thomas nods and grins too and says  _ we got in  _ at the same time James does.

They're even  _ roommates _ , and while that wasn't the deciding factor for Thomas, it sure as hell sweetens the deal.

And,  _ and,  _ to make things even fucking  _ better _ , as soon as Thomas sets down his last box in their dorm and closes the door behind his family, he and James turn to face each other, alone and on their own for the first time in eighteen fucking years, and Thomas can finally,  _ finally _ tell his best friend something he's never been able to tell anyone, barely even told  _ himself.  _

_ Jemmy,  _ he says cautiously, waits for his friend's answering hum. 

_ I'm gay _ , he says, eyes wide, curling in on himself almost as soon as he says it because he has  _ no fucking clue  _ how James is going to react and  _ fuck, maybe he should have thought this through first, dammit Thomas, you stupid fucking fag _ , and James is silent for a long time until he smiles gently and finally nods and says,  _ I'm so proud of you, Thomas _ , and Thomas breaks down sobbing and lurches into James's arms, already wide and open and warm and waiting for him, and James hugs him tightly and murmurs  _ shh, Thomas, it's okay, I know, I know, I'm so proud of you, I accept you, I love you, it's okay _ , in his ear over and over again and pets his massive poof of curly hair while Thomas sobs into his shirt collar and even  _ he _ can tell that his whole body is fucking shaking and he hiccups an apology and James fiercely tells him to  _ shut up _ and squeezes him tighter.

Freshman year of college is fun. It's  _ fun,  _ fun in a way Thomas has never experienced before. They spend long hours in the library studying and at parties drinking and in their dorm cuddling and watching movies and studying some more, and Thomas realizes he's fucking  _ in love with James  _ about halfway through the year while he's taking notes in his English class and then with a start realizes immediately after that  _ he can never fucking tell him _ , James can absolutely  _ never _ know that Thomas is a fucking  _ dumbass _ and went and  _ fell in love with his best friend like a goddam fucking stupid idiot fucking fag, dammit _ .

Thank god Thomas is such a good pretender. You'd never know it, just looking at him, because that's the beauty of being a pretender; they're just like you. 

He's a good pretender, brilliant, amazing, doesn't fucking  _ belong,  _ not with James, not with his family, not with  _ anyone, anywhere, ever _ , but he's dealt with that his whole life and it's made him  _ fan-fucking-tastic _ at looking like he belongs wherever you put him. Fuck, you could plonk him down on an alien planet with no food, no water; not even a tiny bit of comprehension of the language, and he'd  _ still  _ look cool, calm, collected; like he  _ belongs _ . He's been a good pretender his entire life, and everyone he's ever met has eaten it up out of the palm of his hand.

Except for James. James has always seen through his stupid little act, even from their first meeting, had said  _ are you okay?  _ and  _ bull. let's go to the nurse,  _ when Thomas had lied  _ I'm fine  _ and there's a  _ reason _ Thomas picked him as his best friend; he just  _ gets _ Thomas, more than anyone else ever has or ever will.

Which poses a problem. 

The fucking  _ second  _ he walks into their dorm after that English class, fully prepared to pull off the best damn pretending of his life, James takes one look at him over the rim of his glasses and closes his book and takes his glasses off and folds his hands over them in his lap and looks at him  _ way _ too fucking calmly, says  _ what's wrong _ , and Thomas almost hates him, because he looks  _ way too fucking calm _ while Thomas is pretty sure the world is crumbling to pieces around him and James is so close but so fucking far away and it  _ hurts _ , so Thomas suddenly has to blink back tears and clench his jaw and look at the wall as he shuts the door behind him and says  _ I'm fine _ and James, damn him, goes  _ no you're not, come here _ and what is Thomas to do, except collapse in bed on top of him and feel his stomach revolt as James wraps his arms around him and he wraps his own around James's neck and hiccups sobs into his chest?

James sighs and asks  _ what's wrong  _ again and Thomas has half a mind to tell him to  _ go fuck himself _ but just shakes his head and doesn't say anything,  _ can't  _ say anything, cause he's not sure if he'll laugh or cry or go spilling all his secrets and scare James away forever, even though he  _ knows _ James would never do that to him, has proven it a thousand times through first meetings and fighting off bullies and letting him practice presentations on him and even fucking yelling at his father for him after he'd hit Thomas in front of James, but he's still fucking  _ scared,  _ okay, because James is the only  _ real _ friend he's ever had and he thinks he might have to kill himself if James ever  _ does _ leave him. 

_ Thomas _ , James says, in that way he does, patronizing and pitying in a way Thomas will only ever accept from him, because he  _ knows _ James means well and really truly fucking  _ cares,  _ but he  _ will _ and  _ has _ punched anyone else who dares speak to him like that. 

_ I love you _ , is what Thomas finally gets out, chokes on the words as they leave his throat riding on a sob, and James goes  _ I know, I love you too _ , and kisses the top of his head, but it's completely platonic and Thomas sobs harder and holds onto his friend tighter because  _ fuck.  _ The fact that it's platonic hurts  _ so much _ but he  _ loves it  _ because he knows James loves him, he  _ knows  _ that, and even if it's not in the way he  _ wants _ , it's the best he's ever gonna get and he  _ can  _ be happy with that,  _ will  _ be happy with that,  _ has  _ to be happy with that.

James meets Dolly in October of sophomore year and starts dating her sometime in November but doesn't actually tell Thomas about it for three more fucking months, which, okay,  _ completely valid _ , cause James doesn't  _ ever _ have to tell him anything until he's  _ completely ready to do so _ , but, still,  _ ouch.  _

Thomas isn't there for most of their relationship, which feels weird, because he's actually with James during most of his free time, if he's being honest. 

But he gets to watch them meet in the cliche-est fucking way possible when Dolly is the new barista at their favorite coffee shop and spills coffee all over James because neither of them is paying attention, James on his phone as he leans against the counter to wait for his order and Dolly distracted by a different order as she finishes James's and calls out his name and holds the cup of coffee out for him to take and instead slams the cup into his head at full force. Thomas snorts into his hand, eyes wide, fighting back shocked laughter while his best friend stands drenched in a white mocha and Dolly slaps her hands over her mouth in horror and goes  _ oh my god, oh my god, dude, I'm so sorry, fuck, here _ , and fumbles for the napkins for a second until James gets a good look at her, panicking and terrified for her life and with even Thomas's gay ass  _ fully _ able to tell that she's drop-dead  _ gorgeous _ , and James covers her hands with his own, obviously without thinking the motion through, and says, softly,  _ hey, relax, it's fine, no harm done _ , and they lock eyes and it's so fucking grossly _ adorable  _ that Thomas has to actually look away to calm the jealous, emerald green dragon growling deep in the pit of his stomach and digging claws of ice into his heart. 

James introduces himself, goes _um, I'm James,_ and Dolly breathes an equal reply of her own name, staring star-struck at James's handsome face, and, honestly, Thomas might be jealous, but he can hardly fucking blame her, the poor girl, cause he's known James for something like, what, _thirteen years_ and even _he_ still gets overwhelmed by how fucking _pretty_ his best friend is.

Thomas coughs, breaks the spell that's captured the two of them, and James ducks his head and clears his throat in an embarrassed noise and they leave quickly, though James is totally out of it the whole walk to their class and Thomas fights the dragon with a sword of brittle, broken bone and barely wins and teases him, says  _ if you were any lighter I daresay you'd be blushing, Jemmy _ , and James mumbles something that sounds considerably like  _ shut up, Thomas, and don't call me Jemmy _ , and speeds up his walk and Thomas prances after him, a fake grin plastered to his face, sipping at his iced coffee like he's bragging until James swipes it from him and refuses to give it back. Thomas pretends to put up a fight but gives in pretty quick, cause his poor friend is still soaking wet with coffee and obviously not mentally back from his encounter with Dolly yet, so Thomas shoves his hands in his pants pockets and shuts up until he can't help himself anymore and whistles the tune to  _ we fell in love in october _ by girl in red and James slaps him upside the head and tells him to  _ shut the fuck up, oh my god, you're the worst best friend on the planet _ and Thomas pouts, hurt, for about half a second until James bribes him with a sip of his coffee and he actually does shut up for real this time because they've got class. 

James spaces out for the entire lecture, which is so fucking  _ weird  _ and unlike him that Thomas doesn't even comment on it, just shuts up and takes notes for him and drinks his water to combat the dragon. 

James slowly draws away from him, doesn't tell him where he's going all dressed up nice at eight o'clock in the evening, just shifts his weight on his feet and evasively says  _ nowhere, Thomas, don't worry about it _ and even though Thomas knows  _ exactly  _ where he's going he just lets it go, says  _ alright, Jemmy, be safe _ and does his best to play the part of supportive best friend and not let tears fall until the door swings shut and James is gone. 

But the metaphorical distance hurts more than the physical ever will, because Thomas is fine to go without seeing James for days, even weeks, as long as he knows James is always going to pick up the phone when he needs him to, and usually he  _ does _ know that so it's  _ fine _ but this time he  _ doesn't  _ and even though James comes back to the dorm most nights and they still study and curl up and watch movies together, he always seems like he's somewhere else in his head, fiddling with the new black leather cuff on his wrist that had shown up mysteriously that Thomas absolutely does  _ not  _ want to know about and staring at the wall like he doesn't even notice it's there. Thomas tries asking him if he's okay, once, and James startles so hard he starts coughing and goes  _ I'm good, yeah, perfect, why  _ and Thomas shrugs and packs up his books and says he's going out with Lafayette and James gives a distracted nod and barely even remembers to say goodbye. 

Thomas goes out with Lafayette, grinds against him at the bar, gets drunk and gets Lafayette to take him home, gets his friend to fuck him, writhes on the soft sheets under him as he drills in hard and slow, whines  _ fuck, fuck, Gil, please,  _ and doesn't let himself come until Lafayette says he can, until he's begging for it, sobbing broken pleas of  _ I need it, Laf, monsieur, s'il vous plait, wanna come on your cock, please let me, fuuuck  _ and Lafayette presses hot, open-mouthed kisses into his throat and leaves hickeys there and Thomas shudders and arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut against tears when Lafayette finally murmurs  _ come, mon amour, come for me, want to see it, oh, good boy  _ and he comes all over himself, because Lafayette's voice is too soft, like velvet, too French, not deep and rough and southern like he wants it to be, and he's too lithe, all long-limbed and graceful and not big enough or strong enough to force him down and keep him there like Thomas wants, like he needs. 

He's not  _ James,  _ and it might be just a little bit sad when Thomas cries after he and Lafayette fuck, lets the Frenchman pull him into his bare chest and stroke his back and murmur soft, sweet French and ask  _ what's wrong, ma petite, why so sad?  _ and Thomas chokes out  _ I love him  _ and knows he probably shouldn't have said that, not right after sex, should've kept it to himself for at least an hour because it's fucking  _ insensitive _ after just fucking someone, but Lafayette just coos a few small, maternal noises and goes  _ James?  _ and Thomas goes  _ how did you know  _ and Lafayette sighs and holds him tighter and says  _ I am sorry, ma petite  _ and Thomas chokes on his words, sobs,  _ it hurts,  _ and Lafayette nods but doesn't say anything, just lets him cry until his eyes are red and puffy and his throat hurts and he drifts off to sleep like that, wrapped around his friend and wishing it was James. 

His phone is what wakes him up the next morning, and he picks it up without looking at the caller ID and drawls  _ 'lo?  _ because he literally  _ just _ woke up and his accent gets heavier when he's tired, okay, sue him, and James breathes a sigh of relief on the other side of the line, says  _ you didn't come home last night  _ and Thomas pushes himself back further into Lafayette's chest as if he can cringe away from the simmering anger in his best friend's voice when James continues  _ I was worried _ and then Thomas feels his own anger and jealousy rise up and snarls  _ you're one to fucking talk  _ and hangs up and struggles out of Lafayette's hold because everything just suddenly feels like  _ too fucking much _ and he needs to get  _ out _ .

Lafayette pushes himself up on one elbow and squints at him, asks  _ quelle? Est-ce que ça va?  _ and Thomas shakes his head violently because  _ no,  _ he's really fucking  _ not  _ okay as he pulls his clothes on and rushes out an  _ I have class  _ and leaves, Lafayette's door slamming closed behind him. 

James doesn't really wind up  _ telling  _ Thomas about his relationship with Dolly so much as forgets to put a sock on the door, and Thomas walks right in on them fucking in James's bed and chokes on his own saliva, making James flatten himself down on top of his girlfriend protectively and turn to look who just walked in, then sigh and relax a bit when he sees it's just Thomas,  _ just Thomas, always  _ just _ Thomas, he'll never be anything more,  _ but Thomas shoves the self-loathing down under his usual happy-go-lucky-laid-back-I'm-better-than-you-and-I-know-it facade and grins, even as the dragon roars and writhes and rages in his belly, says  _ when's the wedding?  _ and the two of them look at him sheepishly and James says  _ I was going to tell you  _ and Thomas waves him off in what he hopes is a flippant motion and says  _ I'll go hang out with Laf, y'all be safe, now _ and leaves and has to remind himself that it is  _ not okay  _ to press his ear to the door and find out what his best friend sounds like in his throws of passion.

It's not like he doesn't already know, cause he and James have been best friends for thirteen or so years and lived together for three, so of  _ course,  _ Thomas has heard him jerking off thinking he was being quiet when he really wasn't, but listening to him actually having sex is a whole other thing entirely, so instead he does like he said he was going to and shows up at Lafayette's dorm, says  _ let's get drunk and do facemasks  _ when Lafayette opens the door, and Lafayette's eyes light up and he goes  _ oh, mon ami, you - how you say? - read my mind  _ and lets him in and they get drunk and do facemasks in Lafayette's bathroom with the Frenchman's three roommates, Hercules, John, and Alexander, and when  _ that's  _ done and they're all properly smashed on Lafayette's expensive wine, they sit in the living room and watch  _ Princess Bride _ and Thomas may or may not start crying halfway through and if he does then he's too drunk to care, anyway, but Lafayette sighs at him sadly and pets his hair, and he feels okay for a few hours until he wakes up naked in bed with Lafayette, full of regret and with a hangover the size of the sun.

Thomas starts cutting again in junior year, cause recently he's started seeing James less and less and he feels somehow like he's lost his best friend, and his dad's been on his ass about his failing grades, and he doesn't really  _ mean  _ to end up on the bathroom floor with his brother's old pocket knife and he doesn't really  _ mean  _ to cut so deep that his thigh splits open with dark red, sticky blood and he doesn't really  _ mean  _ to pass out there and wake up with Lafayette looking down at him, a hand over his mouth in shock and anger, but he  _ does  _ think, maybe, somehow, that he fucking deserves it, deserves the pain and his friend being pissed at him. 

Lafayette crouches down next to him, gently pulls the knife from Thomas's cold, loose grip, and says, quietly, too quietly, in a voice that sends shivers down Thomas's spine,  _ pourquoi, Thomas?  _ and Thomas doesn't really have an answer, just shrugs his shoulders and rests his head against the wall. Lafayette sighs, asks something in French that Thomas is too tired to decipher, so he just closes his eyes, which makes Lafayette growl  _ no, Thoma  _ and pat his cheek a few times, probably to make sure he's still alive, or something, and he's quiet for a moment, then shakes his head in disappointment and picks Thomas up, ignoring his pained whine, and places him on the counter and starts cleaning him up. He's not gentle, and the warm rag on his sliced open thighs fucking  _ hurts _ , but he  _ deserves _ it, so he doesn't complain and swallows down the whimpers that rise in his throat against his will, tries his best to keep his breathing even, to not let the strained little gasps out, and he's mostly successful until Lafayette gets to the deepest cut, which is still bleeding after who knows how long, and Thomas cries out and grabs his friend's hand to push him away. 

Lafayette glares at him, threatens to call James, says  _ it would not hurt so much had you not done it,  _ and then softens just a bit when Thomas's eyes well up with hurt and pain, cups his cheek with a warm hand and wipes his tears away with his thumb and soothes,  _ I know, I am sorry. I need to clean them, Thoma, unless I can trust you to do it yourself?  _ and Thomas knows it's easier to just let Lafayette do it, however much he fucking does  _ not  _ want that, so he shakes his head in apology and lets his friend's hands go back to their task, curls his own around the edge of the counter he's sitting on and bites his lip to keep his noises in until Lafayette is done cleaning and applying antiseptic and wrapping gauze around his thighs and securing it with medical tape. When he's finally done, after what seems like hours but was probably only about ten minutes, Lafayette asks  _ what happened? why?  _ and Thomas  _ still  _ doesn't have a  _ fucking _ answer so he just shakes his head and says  _ 'm tired  _ and Lafayette sighs for the millionth time, which is  _ really _ getting on his fucking nerves, and half-carries him to his bed and curls around him and lets him cry himself to sleep.

He wakes up when James gets in, and he doesn't know what time it is but the windows are dark and Lafayette is still asleep with Thomas's head on his chest, and he can just barely make out when James sees them (both half-naked, because apparently Lafayette undressed them both down to their boxers, which Thomas is grateful for) and cocks an eyebrow and says, sarcastically,  _ when's the wedding?  _ and Thomas smiles a bit at the familiar teasing he's missed for so long and drawls out,  _ yours first,  _ and James chuckles quietly and shuffles around in the dark while he gets ready for bed and the self-destructive side of Thomas can't help but ask  _ how's Dolly?  _ and James sits on the edge of his bed and looks suddenly nervous, fingers tapping against his thigh, and says  _ I, uh... I proposed, actually...  _ and he looks so fucking  _ happy _ that Thomas's whole world comes screeching to a halt, the feelings that had been shoved into the backseat going flying right through the windshield and crashing to the ground in scattered, broken fragments. 

He pushes himself up on one elbow and goes  _ oh  _ and James nods and says  _ she said yes  _ and Thomas breathes deep and switches his feeling off and smiles a brittle smile and lies  _ I'm happy for you guys  _ and tries to mean it, really, he does, because he just wants to see his best friend happy, for fuck's sake, but it's fucking  _ difficult  _ because he's i _ n love with him _ and James slumps and goes  _ thank god. I thought you would be mad at me  _ and Thomas asks  _ why?  _ because he's actually genuinely confused for a second and James hesitates before admitting _ I haven't been the best friend lately  _ and Thomas snorts and goes  _ bullshit  _ and then James must think that everything's fine between them because he lays down and goes to sleep.

It's not fine, it's really not, because James is actually correct in his assumption, but Thomas lays down and goes back to sleep too. Well, he tries, anyway, but the dragon is so furious that it growls and claws at his stomach and his heart and it feels like he's going to die, so really he just lays in Lafayette's arms until his alarm goes off and wakes them up and he can get up and be productive without looking like a sus fucking weirdo. 

His thighs are still bleeding and the water runs red down the drain and he stares at it, wondering why it doesn't hurt when it really should, and doesn't move until Lafayette pulls the shower curtain aside and says  _ it's been an hour, mon ami,  _ and looks so fucking sad, like someone just kicked his puppy, that Thomas lets him guide him out of the shower and dress his wounds and hand him a stack of clothes that he blindly pulls on, not really realizing the hoodie is Lafayette's until the smell catches him and he buries his nose in it and inhales, grateful for that one tiny comfort, and shrugs it on. 

Lafayette watches him, concerned, asks,  _ bien?  _ and Thomas snorts, knows what he's  _ really  _ asking, says,  _ I'm not gonna kill myself first chance I get,  _ even though the prospect is actually really fucking tempting, and brushes past him, grabs his bag, phone, and keys, and leaves for his first class without another word. James texts him a minute later, asks  _ what was that? you okay?  _ and Thomas snorts derisively and turns off his phone.

_ Okay _ . No, he's not, but he wishes everyone would stop fucking asking, cause that just makes him feel worse. 

At graduation, James almost has tears in his eyes when he walks off the stage after shaking the dean's hand, his diploma pressed tight to his chest, and Thomas feels much the same, grinning with happy tears clogging his throat, and his oldest friend comes to a stop in front of him while their classmates celebrate around them and says  _ we did it, Thomas, we did it! _ and Thomas, Thomas,  _ Thomas  _ nods, bites his lip, still grinning, can't control himself, doesn't even think it over, says,  _ you know I'm in love with you, right?  _ and James squints, leans closer, yells  _ huh??  _ over the noise of the crowd, and the dragon preens with pride in him, in  _ Thomas _ , but he's a damn coward who shakes his head and laughs it off, acts like he said something stupid and pointless and tries to pull James in for a hug, but Dolly suddenly calls his name and flies into him, making him stagger, and Thomas just watches awkwardly, arms half outstretched, as they laugh and kiss each other, both of them beaming with pride, James in himself, Dolly in James. 

Lafayette appears next to him and takes his hand, watching him watch them, and murmurs,  _ they are cute together, non?  _ and Thomas sighs and says  _ are we planning to go get drunk or what  _ and Lafayette huffs a laugh and tugs him away. 

Thomas doesn't like weddings, never has, hates wearing a tie and talking to people, but this one's even worse, cause he's fucking  _ in love with the groom, obviously he doesn't want to go to the fucking wedding, Gil, leave me alone.  _ Lafayette glares at him, arms folded over his chest, and says  _ you're best man, oui? you have to go  _ and that's just another thing on top of all the others, the shit cherry on top of the shit fucking sundae, and Thomas wants to start crying all over again, because he'd  _ thought  _ he was gonna be best man, thought it was just a fucking given, had joked  _ don't care, long as I'm best man  _ to James when asked for his opinion on the fucking  _ drapes _ for the reception, and James had chuckled nervously and gone  _ no, it's gonna be my brother, actually. Henry  _ and Thomas had smiled and said  _ oh, that's great, Jemmy  _ as a few more pieces of his heart shattered. 

The service itself is beautiful, and James and Dolly are gorgeous at the alter, both of them completely unable to hide their grins, and Thomas smiles too, but it's sad, not happy, as he stands to Henry's left on the steps, watching the preacher say  _ you may now kiss  _ and Dolly almost knocking James over with the way she flies at him and wraps her arms around his neck in a kiss, her beautiful, old-fashioned white dress flaring and swirling around them, the whole scene like the end of a Disney movie, where the guy gets the girl and everyone goes happy, and Thomas has a melancholy, sad sort of joy in his heart, because he might not be the protagonist of this story, isn't even his own, but he's a supporting character and, as Hamilton sometimes says,  _ even those are important  _ and as much as he hates agreeing with the man, he certainly has his moments. 

Thomas doesn't stay for the reception, claiming a migraine and smiling gratefully when James nods in understanding, asks  _ you goin' home?  _ and Thomas almost laughs in his face cause he and James don't live together anymore but on opposite sides of the hall, James in his happy apartment with Dolly and Thomas in his sad one alone, but they did get jobs together at Professor Washington's law firm (Hamilton too, but Thomas tries to  _ not _ think about that as much as he can) so he says  _ nah, I'm good, see you on Monday  _ and James smiles and squeezes his shoulder quickly and returns the sentiment.

Life goes on. Slowly.

It changes. Slowly.

Thomas wakes up and gets expensive coffee from Starbucks and goes to work where he yells at Hamilton and maintains his friendship with James and keeps following him wherever he goes, which is eventually to the damn  _ White House _ with Washington as the 48th president of the United States, and goes home and eats a meager dinner and goes to sleep and wakes up and does it all over again, and he finds himself living for the weekends and the tiny touches he gets to steal from James and Lafayette cause those are so  _ rare  _ now, as if people in relationships can't give away platonic touches, and the scars on his thighs just get more and more until eventually he runs out of room and starts making them on his wrists and then one day, as he's eating his sub sandwich with James in his best friend's office, his sleeve slides down a bit to expose fresh cuts and James freezes, sandwich halfway to his mouth, and stares.

Thomas fumbles when he realizes what his friend is looking at, almost drops his sub on the floor in his panic to grab at the sleeves of his suit jacket and pull them down over his wrists, and James breathes  _ Thomas _ and Thomas shakes his head and stares at the floor so his friend can't see his tears, and James says  _ Mrs. Maria,  _ voice suddenly harsh as he calls to his assistant and Thomas flinches, scared of his best friend's anger, and James sees it and breathes out a slow breath and gentles his voice when he tells Maria to _ clear my schedule for the day, please. And Secretary Jefferson's; Mrs. Sally should be able to handle it if you could just be so kind as to inform her  _ and Maria nods and leaves silently, looking only slightly worried, and James lays a hand on Thomas's shoulder and pulls him gently to his feet. 

He takes him to his own place with Dolly, not Thomas's, because they live in DC now and have separate places multiple blocks apart, and he sits Thomas down on the couch and wraps way too many blankets around his shoulders and goes to make them tea, lavender and chamomile with honey, and sits down opposite him and just waits, the bastard, because they've known each other long enough that James knows he'll talk eventually if he just waits for it, and Thomas wishes he could hate him, but just stares at the steaming cup in his hands, the warmth comforting, and murmurs  _ what do you want me to say?  _ and James takes a long sip, considering, before he just says  _ why. _ and Thomas scoffs and finally looks up at him, and he's looking back, expression mild and unreadable as it always is when he's pissed off and doesn't want to show it, doesn't want to hurt Thomas, and it all just comes tumbling out.

"I fell in love with you in freshman year," he says bluntly. "Or, well, realized I was in love with you. I don't know when it actually happened."

James blinks. Blinks again. "What?"

Thomas snorts. "I've been in love with you since freshman year. Of college."

He can see as James does the math, lips moving slightly and eyes widening soon after. "Fourteen years?"

Thomas nods. He hasn't ever done the math himself, but they're in their early thirties now, so that... sounds about right.

James inhales, holds it for five, and lets it out. "Okay. Okay. What does that have to do with-?" He gestures at Thomas's sleeve-covered wrists.

Thomas rolls his eyes. "Dumb question."

"Well sorry if I don't want my best friend to  _ kill himself _ because of  _ me _ ," James hisses, and Thomas shrinks back into the couch. 

"I'm not going to-"

" _It sure fucking_ _looks like it_ ," James snarls, eyes blazing, and then seems to catch himself, takes a deep breath and sips at his tea. "I'm sorry."

Thomas shrugs one shoulder. "'S'alright."

"I don't know what to do," James admits softly. 

"You don't hate me, right?"

James looks appalled. "What? No.  _ No.  _ Never. I love-" He stops and presses his lips together. "Is it okay if I say that? I don't want to... make it harder."

"You can do anything you want if you come and cuddle me," Thomas says, making it sound like it could be a joke in case he gets shot down. 

James shakes his head. "I can't. I'm-"

"Married, I know," Thomas sighs. "Can't hug your best friend of twenty-seven years when you're married. Take me back to the office?"

James looks pained. "I don't want to do that."

"Why not? Gonna say you love me back?" Thomas says, snide and bitter, and he knows he's being cruel but he just can't seem to stop himself. "Because if not, I have nothing here. I'll call an Uber."

He stands, shrugging the blankets off and setting the cooled tea on a coaster on the mahogany coffee table. James watches him silently.

He’s just gotten the notification from the Uber when James says, “I would have said yes, you know.”

Thomas freezes.

James makes a gesture with his hand. “If you’d offered. If you’d told me. If you’d done… anything.”

Thomas swallows and stares at the floor. “I think I know. Somewhere deep down… I knew.”

The Uber honks, and he turns to leave.

"Where did we go wrong, Thomas?"

Thomas pauses one last time on his way out the door. He looks at his friend, still sitting on his couch, a sad look on his face. "I wasn't under the impression that we ever did."

"Well, when did you stop fighting?"

"Probably around the same time you stopped caring." 

Thomas shuts James's front door behind him and tries not to feel like it's symbolic.

It's raining, and his heart sympathizes.

**Author's Note:**

> leave comments and kudos or i sue the state of pennsylvania for voter fraud <3
> 
> title from "sweet hibiscus tea" by penelope scott


End file.
